A Feast to Remember

There was one for every season - a snack just so, so bingeable, so hard to put down, that it disappeared before she even knew what was happening. In the fall, it was pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. In summer, s'mores mini cupcakes from the grocery store bakery. And in winter, it was Terry's Chocolate Oranges - the original milk chocolate kind that stores stocked just before the holidays. If her Sir didn't keep a close eye on those particular commodities, she was liable to go through multiple in a day. And of course, this would not stand.

The first time it had happened, she'd gotten a spanking and a hell of a scolding, plus a nice long timeout to go with that tummy ache she gave herself. The second time, he'd strapped her until she cried and set a new rule: the next time she went overboard, he was going to give her a punishment that would make her sorely regret her lack of attention. A bruised bottom would sound nice in comparison, he'd said.

That was enough to keep her diligent for quite a while. In combination with a few new nutritional requirements and more careful observation from her Sir, she became gradually more cognizant of how many treats she consumed at once, and so the threat eventually all but slipped from her mind.

A season finale is what did her in. One of her favorite shows - one Sir wasn't much interested in - wrapped the most exciting season yet with a three-hour marathon, and she'd made herself a champion's nest of blankets, snacks, and beverages. Among these snacks: a fresh new box of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, a sealed can of salt-and-vinegar Pringles, and an extra-large bag of leftover Halloween candy.

Three hours (and a copious amount of TV drama) later, all of the food was gone. Every last bite had disappeared. And as she stood to return to the real world & clean up her mess, the damage became evident.

Oh, fuck.

Thinking quickly, she gathered the trash together into a blanket and hauled it up to her room, stuffing it in a corner for now. She'd have to take one empty package at a time to the trash over a few weeks to throw off any suspicion...

"Pet," Sir called up the stairs, "Come on now. Dinner is ready."

She winced. This was not going to end well.

"Here, Pet," Sir greeted her cheerfully as she dragged her feet into the dining room, "I made lasagna tonight."

Oh no - she loved lasagna. Especially when Sir made it. She almost always took second helpings, but tonight, the thought of even one piece made her stomach turn.

"Is everything alright, Pet?"

"Oh, yes Sir," she replied hurriedly, "Just... not feeling super great today, that's all."

"Oh no," Bless her Sir for being so caring about her health, but right now it was not working in her favor, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Do you feel sick?"

"...Yeah, a little bit." She sat in her usual chair and stared at the empty plate in front of her, fruitlessly wishing it could provide her a means of escape.

Sir pressed a hand against her forehead, "Hm... You don't seem to have a fever. Is it your stomach?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, my poor Pet. What's got you feeling so bad all of a sudden?"

"Um... It might've been something I ate. I dunno."

"What did you eat today?"

She really should have planned for that question to come up, but it struck her enough that she hesitated for just a bit too long. "Uh..."

Sir looked up at her as he served himself, "Pet... What did you eat today?"

"...I had a Pop-Tart for breakfast," she recounted honestly, "And... leftovers for lunch."

Sir narrowed his eyes, far too good at knowing when she was guilty.

"And what else?"

Her stomach, in an act of perfectly awful timing, grumbled loudly enough to be heard from the other end of the table.

"...A couple pumpkin cookies," she lied.

"A couple?" he probed, "How many?"

"I don't remember..."

"Do I need to go check?"

"No!" she squeaked a bit more enthusiastically than she meant to. It sealed her fate, and without a second of hesitation or another glance her way, Sir stood and strode right over to the pantry in the kitchen. His sharp eyes scanned it, then turned daggers on his pet.

"Where are the rest of the cookies?" he asked.

She had nothing to say. She was screwed.

Sir walked over to the trash can, opening it and peeking inside. He'd taken the trash out earlier this afternoon, and it was still mostly empty.

"Where's the box, Pet?"

She just lowered her chin and slid further down in her chair.

"Pet, you are going to show me where you put it right now, or I will double the punishment you're already going to get."

A long whine escaped her, and she slid the rest of the way out of the chair onto the floor. Sir approached, ready to pick her up and drag her if necessary, but she had the good sense to stand up before he reached her. Proverbial tail tucked between her legs, she trudged toward the stairs with Sir in tow.

When Sir spotted the blanket stuffed into the corner, markedly out of place in her otherwise clean room, he pulled it back. Empty snack packaging and candy wrappers were flung across the floor, leaving a grand, incriminating mess.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered.

He was angry enough that he didn't even look her way.

"Get your ass to the bathroom," he growled.

Fear zapped her like frosty lightning, but she knew better than to hesitate. She scurried to Sir's master bathroom - the one that they always used for punishments - and waited. And waited. And... waited. She really only waited about four minutes, but four minutes is an eternity when punishment is what's coming next.

At long last, Sir's footsteps resounded through the hallway, and then on the tile behind her. She cowered as he reached into the cabinet that was entirely devoted to her punishment supplies. Sir turned back with a plastic basin in his hands - more likely than not with something inside. Setting down the broad bowl, her fears were confirmed - Sir pulled out not one, but two bars of Ivory soap. That alone was enough to know that he was really turning things up to 11 this time.

"I promised you that next time you did something like this, I'd give you a punishment that would make you wish I'd only bruised your bottom. Do you remember that?"

She hadn't recalled when she made her snack nest this morning, but she certainly did now. "Yes, Sir..."

He opened the sink tap and turned it to as hot as it would go, "And you didn't just overeat one snack - it looked to me like you ate all those cookies, all those chips, and all the leftover Halloween candy. Any corrections or additions?"

Her breath shuddered as Sir grabbed the plastic cup on the counter and dropped one unwrapped bar of soap in. "N-No, Sir..."

"Well, I'd imagine that's going to make you feel awfully sick, if it hasn't already."

Her stomach, again with its inopportune timing, growled in discomfort again as if just to prove his point. "Yes, Sir."

"Mm-hm. Too bad - a stomachache like that would probably be punishment enough for your poor choices. But I have a promise to keep."

The second bar of soap, now unwrapped, was dropped into the still-empty basin with a thunk.

"So, for each of those three bad decisions, you're going to get the exact same punishment three times over - one right now, one before bed tonight, and one tomorrow morning... So I know you'll really get the message this time," Sir held the soap-filled cup under the steaming flow of water, letting it fill to the brim with steaming suds, then did the same with the basin. Pet whimpered, her stomach twisting in knots that much more at what she knew was coming.

"Do you want to guess what those punishment sessions are going to consist of?" Sir inquired. She winced - she hated these guessing games he played. She never won.

"...A mouthsoaping," she tossed out, based on the soap soaking in the cup.

"Mm-hm."

"...An enema?" she hedged, guessing from the basin rapidly filling with sudsy water.

"Two or three, depending on how you behave," Sir confirmed damningly. Pet cringed again, tears already welling up in her eyes - already, two punishments she hated with a fiery passion. And two punishments she knew she had well earned.

"Any more guesses?"

She wasn't sure how many more parts of this punishment there might be... but it was a good bet that it would include...

"A spanking?"

"A paddling," Sir corrected, "And a strapping, and a switching, and a nice long chat with the bathbrush."

It was enough to make her sob without any touch yet. The smell of Ivory soap was filling the air - far from appetizing, at odds with her ill-advised snack binge. It was the last thing she wanted right now, but she'd soon be stuffed with it anyway.

Sir laid a hand on her shoulder - too gentle to be threatening, too firm to be soothing.

"We'll start whenever you feel you're ready," he said, "Just remember that every minute you spend preparing is another minute that bar of soap gets to soak and soften up."

That would only mean more melty, nasty soap would get left on her tongue. Tears already dripped over her cheeks between sniffles... but there was no use in waiting to recover. Waiting would only make things worse for her, and she was sure she'd be in tears again before too long anyway.

Wiping her nose one last time, she looked up and met his eyes in the mirror.

"I'm ready, Sir."